Rest at the River
pamela spurling
Dear Sisters ~
It’s a beautiful morning here in the Pacific Northwest…
the sun is shining on the clusters of daffodils that
encircle the old weeping willow tree outside my window.
The leaves on the willow tree are a sweet spring green
~ sort of a feast for the eyes this morning. A tire
swing hangs from one of the oldest branches and I can
almost hear the sound of laughter the swing has brought
through the years. But it hangs motionless right now…
as if to beckon another child at play.
I sit by the window in this quiet place to pray, to read
the Word and to consider the ways of the LORD. The only
sounds are the birds chirping and the constant din of
the computer fan. I look out to see where the birds’
wings will take them in their flurry of activity and
then I spot the tire swing and I smile as I watch and
wait — for it will likely only hang motionless there for
a little while longer as little ones run and play in the
yard and will soon tire of kicking the ball or skating
on the lane. Eventually they will come to the quiet
place to swing and to rest. I pray for them as I
consider that each one of them will come to a point in
their life, that they realize the need to find the true
place of rest – the longing for that which will refresh
their soul. I pray for the souls of those little
children – for their walk with the LORD, for faith and
trust in Him, I pray for their choices, for their health
and strength, for the one that will be their husband or
wife one day – that they, too, will put their faith and
trust in the LORD, and that they, too, will be obedient
and grow in the nurture and admonition of the LORD.
As I rest in the Word this morning, I’m mindful of some
of the bittersweets that mothers face… bittersweets, the
things and events that at one time we would have
resisted or feared or things we could never have
imagined in our younger years. But as we go along in
our mothering, the LORD fills us, works us, supplies us,
diminishes us, strengthens and breaks us, nourishes and
prunes us — all that we might be to Him a sweet savour,
a beautiful offering: vessels He mercifully and
graciously uses.
I say mercifully and graciously because He is merciful
to not tell us in advance all that He will do and allow
in our lives; and I say graciously, because He
graciously supplies all it will cost for all we’ll
face. It is of His mercy and grace that that we are
both not
consumed but are
sustained. Things we think we will never live through,
never overcome, never survive: our LORD has already
supplied, met, ordered or overcome. But, in our
desperation, we think we’re all alone –that we’re going
this whole thing alone, that no one knows the troubles
we face or the disappointments we endure. But the LORD
knows, because He’s already there, and He’s concerned
with all that concerns us… and in the process He gives
us a most incredible gift: faith. Faith… faith being,
“the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of
things not seen.” (Hebrews 11.1)
I was reading in Genesis and Exodus – probably my
favourite studies are studies in the Pentateuch –the
first five books of the Bible. I try to get to that
study every few years to keep my memory fresh regarding
what God has done from the beginning, His ways and why
the finished work of the Cross is so immense, so
staggering. So, I was considering a small portion this
morning: a life of faith in the absence of tangible
results or fulfilled prayers.
You see, in the book of Genesis we read of the faith of
Abraham, the faith of Isaac, the faith of Jacob. Now,
at the very beginning of Exodus we read of a mother’s
selfless trust and faith. We might miss it if we don’t
stop to ponder the actions of this mother and the
remarkable ramifications of that faith. At a time when
a great number of babies were being born and when the
oppression of the Pharaoh was severe, and Hebrew baby
boys were to be killed, Jochebed gave birth to a baby
boy. His mother had sweet compassion for him as his
goodness had captured her heart and in an act of
obedience, and ultimately in mercy, she wrapped her
precious baby and placed him in a basket she’d fashioned
from the bulrushes and then set it in the river. In
order that his life might be spared, she knew she needed
to give him up. You’ll have to read the incredible
work of the LORD in her life and in the life of this
fine child in Exodus, chapters: two and three. It seems
as foolishness to lose a life to save it. But that’s
what happened then and that’s what must happen for us
today and it’s what must happen for our children.
And so, what about us today? We love our babies… our
children. And yes, in a literal sense, we don’t wrap
our babies and put them in the basket and send the
swaddled baby down the river. But there does come a
point when we as mothers need to take our children,
though perhaps no longer wrapped in blankets and set in
cradles, precious and dear as they are to us, and we
need to give them over to the LORD: setting them in the
river and trusting Him to be the only One to lift them
out and save them – for He’s the only One who can. Our
arms only comfort them for awhile – only keep them safe
for awhile.
We may think we need to hold them, to guard, guide and
provide for them. But then, there still comes a point
where we come to our knees and recognize that we are not
their hope, that while we wrap them in blankets, all we
can truly do is to wrap their lives in prayer. There
truly is life in no other, there is salvation in no
other: it’s just Jesus. He is the only hope for them…
and the LORD is our only hope, as mothers, too. We
find peace at the river when we see He is all we need
and He is enough and His love for our children is
greater than we could ever hope or imagine. His love is
that river… it flows through His strong hands.
Dear sister, I pray you join me in finding rest at the
river today. God bless you as you keep your home, pray
for your children and journey with the LORD.
always in His hands,
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